


Trial & Error

by tomanonuniverse



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ... jkdfhldkjhflkjh God that was monstrous, Autistic Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Canon Autistic Character, Friendship, Gen, Hanzo Shimada Needs a Hug, I honestly don't really have any tags for this dshdlkjhdslkjhds, Just that Handsoap Chihuahua is in DESPERATE need of love, Love I am willing to provide but only if I get to break him first, Male-Female Friendship, Protectiveness, Sensory Overload, Siblings, Sign Language, SymmPharah, aka Satya will deck you if you don't leave Hanzo alone, gEnjI DIDnT mEan It ANd NeITHER did I iM sO sORRYY, hanzo is trying, protective friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse
Summary: For a moment Genji wasn’t sure why Hanzo had reacted so strongly because he thought he knew how the Swiss woman felt about him before he stiffened and as it hit him.Us. He said forgive us.





	Trial & Error

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! 
> 
> I actually wrote this thing about a million years ago but I decided to post it now just to let people know that I'm not dead! I'm still working on "Hair Length & Normalcy"'s second chapter but honestly everything's been kind of nuts lately so I barely have the chance to write, pffft. 
> 
> I digress, this was originally supposed to have a couple more chapters to it, or at least a continuation, which is why I waited so long to post it. I was gonna post the whole thing together but eeeehhhh... who has that kinda time, pffft. I don't know what to tags this needs so if y'all got any ideas, shoot, yeah? Enjoy 'n lemme know what you think!

Hanzo set down the empty tea cup he had just taken out of the cupboard a little too hard for his own good, closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose. He couldn’t help the scowl that pulled at his already frowning lips at the conversation at hand. He opened his eyes and looked to the kettle, almost pleading it to hurry up and get him out of his situation.

Behind him, Genji tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. “Hanzo. Answer me,” he demanded in a rare display of anger. This new man that Genji had become after his almost literal resurrection was one of patience, and more importantly, a complete stranger to Hanzo. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He may now know the difference between meditating and falling asleep cross-legged, but he still couldn’t tell Hanzo’s dragons apart, despite naming them himself.

A smile threatened to pull at Hanzo’s mouth before he remembered where he was and what was happening, making him sigh exhaustedly. “Can we not delay this conversation until after the mission?” Inquired the elder Shimada as he shuffled between the very little variety of tea presented, skipping over his favored one and snatching the one next to it.

“No. No, we can’t,” Genji insisted, “because Angela is coming with us and I need to make sure that your…dislike…of each other will not get in the way.” Hanzo whirled around, obviously offended that the cyborg would even suggest something like that. “I would never allow a petty feud to compromise the mission.”

The younger Shimada barked out a laugh. “Really? Last mission you almost blew Torbjörn’s position because your  _ pride _ wouldn’t let you accept Jesse taking care of more Talon men than you.” Hanzo felt his throat tighten and a sharp tug at his chest that could only be described as guilt as heat pooled into his cheeks.

“[That is  _ different,] _ ” he snapped in Japanese, clearly ashamed. Behind his visor, Genji rose an eyebrow as he watched Hanzo pour water into the cup. He was clearly trying not to look at him, even though he knew he felt Genji’s gaze burning into his back anyway. “[Oh? How so?]” Retorted the green-haired man, crossing his arms challengingly.

Hanzo finally turned around from the counter, teacup in hand and glare on his face. “[For one, McCree does not despise me,]” he muttered, glancing away almost shyly before flattening his lips and huffing arrogantly, “[he tolerates me, or at the very least  _ tries  _ to _.  _ And I him. Why would  _ I _ try with doctor Zeigler when she so clearly does not bother to see me in a different light?]”

At that, Genji scoffed. “[Well, forgive us for having difficulty seeing you as anything but a monstrous kinslayer.]”

As soon as the words had come out of his mouth did Genji regret them. Hanzo’s shoulders slacked in disbelief and his jaw fell, mouth hanging open in shock as he staggered back as if Genji had physically hurt him. He might as well have, from the way Hanzo’s hand went to the middle of his torso and grappled at the cloth hanging there as if it were his lifeline.

For a moment Genji wasn’t sure why Hanzo had reacted so strongly because he thought he knew how the Swiss woman felt about him before he stiffened and as it hit him.

Us. He said forgive  _ us. _

“Wait,” he immediately sputtered, horrified at his own words. “ _ Anija _ , please wait, I—" But Hanzo had already squared his shoulders and hardened his gaze, expression unreadable. Genji remained frozen, watching the other walk out of the room quickly. His knees gave in and he sat, placing his elbows on the table and pressing his head in hands, choking back a sound that threatened to be a fruitless apology since he knew his brother had already left.

On his way out, Hanzo halted and caught himself before he’d rammed into something. Or, someone. In front of him were two people that were obviously eavesdropping on the obviously private argument. But then again, they were, to a certain degree, shouting. In front of him were Jesse McCree and Lena Oxton (callsign Tracer, which he used more often but mostly out of respect), the blinking woman looking confused and the cowboy looking…

Sad.

Hanzo felt the color drain from his face as he quickly realized that Jesse understood what was said. He hadn’t expected that anyone other than him and Genji knew any Japanese. Instead of standing there and looking like a ghost, he maneuvered beyond them in the narrow hallway, walking away quickly but carefully as to not spill the tea in his hands.

He hadn’t realized his breathing had quickened until he was outside the room he was headed to, pausing to knock only to notice that the only sound in the entire corridor was panting that came from him. He grit his teeth and forced himself to inhale weakly, holding his breath as he knocked on the door in front of him.

A moment of silence passed. Hanzo let out a breath through his nose and lifted his hand to knock again. He only tapped his knuckled against the door once before someone interrupted. “Don’t,” came a quiet but stern voice from beyond the door. Hanzo paused, carefully thinking of his next course of action. He blinked for a moment and flattened his lips.

“May I enter?” He spoke the words lowly, as if he were whispering to someone next to him. When nothing happened, he thought that he was not heard and almost opened his mouth to speak once more, but the door made a small click before sliding open. Hanzo took a slow step into the room as the door shut behind him, engulfing the room in darkness.

There was light, but it was dim enough that Hanzo had to blink multiple times to adjust his vision. On a stool in front of him sat Satya Vaswani (callsign Symmetra; he tries not to address her by callsign unless absolutely necessary since she doesn’t seem a big fan of it, which he understands, because Symmetra was her  _ Vishkar _ name), back to him, just like his back had been to Genji just a few moments ago.

He took his steps carefully and lightly, not chancing his prosthetics thudding against the floor despite his training on silent treading. The woman’s eyes were shut tightly, as if trying to block something out. She sat with one leg crossed over the other and hands set on her higher knee, position a form of comfort to her. Orderly and organized.

Hanzo placed the teacup in front of her gently, yet it still clacked as it made contact with the table. They both flinched at the sound and Satya opened her eyes slowly, trying and failing to hide her annoyance at the disturbance. She shot him an apologetic look at her irritation but he only nodded in understanding, much to her relief.

He opened his mouth to speak but at the grimace the woman suddenly made, he closed it again. Instead, he rose his hands in the air and moved them. It took Satya a minute to realize that he was trying to communicate with her at all, then another to realize that he was using  _ Indian  _ sign language, then another to realize what it was he was saying.

_ <You have been off all morning. Are you alright?> _ Hanzo had patiently signed for the third time, face neutral. Satya, however, had leaned back and allowed her eyebrows to raise. < _ You know Indian sign?> _ At the surprise in her motions and expression, a smug smirk made its way onto the man’s face.  _ <Impressed?> _ Satya’s shoulder’s shook gently and she tilted her head in a friendly manner.

_ <A bit, actually,> _ she admitted, smiling at the small hint of a proud smile he made,  _ <and yes, I am fine, merely a bit overwhelmed. It is just that you and your brother’s voices carried down the hall and… > _ Satya halted, watching as a guilty expression appeared onto his face. Quickly, she changed the subject.  _ <Why do you know Indian sign?> _ Hanzo looked at the ground for a moment and Satya knew that whatever he’d decide to tell her probably wasn’t the whole truth. He looked up at her and tilted his head.

Her eyes immediately traveled to the golden ribbon that trailed from the pulled-up hair. Even in the weak light, it glimmered in a way that drew her attention and pleased her eyes. It wasn’t shining or blinding, merely a soft luster amidst the dark. Hanzo made a small amused sound, breaking the silence. She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment and she looked away, feeling slightly betrayed that he had laughed at her, out of all things.

Instead, he shuffled noisily, deeming it safe to as she hadn’t told him otherwise. Then he extended his hand to her. She turned to him and blinked at the sudden color in her face, realizing it was his tattooed arm offering her his ribbon. She glanced up to his face to see if he was mocking her, but he was offering it.

Satya exhaled. She pressed a fist to her mouth and cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said, taking the ribbon from his hand. She considered wrapping it around her prosthetic arm but she didn’t like the gold against the white, so she instead wrapped it around her flesh forearm. She looked up and nodded curtly, which he returned. A kindred spirit indeed.  A small smile broke out onto both of their faces at the thought. Just as that happened, there was a sudden knock at the door. “Saty?” Came the muffled voice of one of the only two people allowed to say that nickname, “you in there?”

The Indian woman huffed through her nose exasperatedly, though she seemed in a much better mood than earlier. “Yes, Lúcio. Come in,” she responded, pressing something on the table in front of her as the door slid open. The young Brazilian musician smiled brightly at his friend before surprise overcame his expression at seeing the other person in the room.

“Hanzo! Hi!” He greeted cheerfully, causing the Shimada to snort ungracefully, to which the other’s grin widened. Satya smiled gently. Lúcio always tried to make friends with people it would seem impossible to befriend (i.e herself and Hanzo), and always succeeded it seemed. Once he got past that level, he’d make it a personal goal to ensure they’re content in his presence.

“They’re about to take off for the mission,” he stated and pointed a thumb behind him, “you two going  or what?” Hanzo wanted to roll his eyes because of  _ course _ they were coming, but he held it back. It was an unnecessary and unkind gesture, one that Lúcio did not deserve for asking a rhetorical question. Hanzo nodded instead. He was doing his best to become more… tolerable. At least so that people see beyond his past _. _ Genji once told him he was more than that. Judging from their conversation, perhaps he changed his mind.

The elder Shimada swallowed the thought away and shut his eyes, exhaling. As Satya stood up next to him, he remembered why he was here in the first place. Turning to her, he spoke. “Are you sure you will be alright?” He inquired. Lúcio glanced at her curiously, unconsciously turning on his medic-eyes and scanning her over for any injuries.

Satya sent Hanzo a distasteful look, clearly bothered, not by the question itself but the non-existent implication behind it. The Japanese man winced, hiding his reaction behind a mere twitch of his eye and a clench of his fists.  He hadn’t meant for it to come off as him belittling her, he was just making a poor attempt at displaying concern. That’s what good people do, right?

“Why wouldn’t she be?” A new voice joined the conversation, the undertone of an accusation lacing their words. Fareeha Amari (callsign Pharah, which Hanzo used professionally) walked into the room, glaring at Hanzo challengingly as she did so. She was another person that didn’t like Hanzo and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the way Genji acted when she was a child or purely because Angela doesn’t like him. 

Unappreciative of the implication that he did something to Satya, one of if not his only friend on base, he glared right back at her. He wasn’t a punching bag for untrusting Overwatch agents. Opening his mouth to respond with a snarky comeback, seeing as his sharp wit was his only line of defense against these people, he found the words halting in his throat.

Satya  _ did _ mention him and Genji arguing. And so he indeed was partially at fault.

He shut his mouth in defeat and looked away from the Egyptian woman, clear bitterness (and perhaps a hint of remorse) on his face. She looked both triumphant and annoyed, not surprised that  _ Hanzo Shimada _ did something wrong. She never really bothered to go out of her way to disrespect him, but she certainly didn’t act nice in his presence. She never understood how Jesse could do it, with how close he and Genji are.

Satya and Lúcio awkwardly watched the scene unfold. The Indian woman placed her hand on her lover’s armor to grab her attention and frowned. “I was overwhelmed, not incapacitated,” she clarified as she sent Hanzo a slight glare then unconsciously pushed the Fareeha away from him, missing the grateful and guilty glance he sent her for coming to his defense, “but I am alright now and we can all proceed to the dropship.”

“Mm,” the Egyptian woman hummed, eyeing the archer up and down in distrust then turning to Satya with a completely different expression: a furrow to her brows and a smile on her lips. “Would you like to stay back today then,  _ habibti? _ ” She offered, grabbing hold of the shorter woman’s hand and tilting her head innocently. To say the sudden character change didn’t startle Hanzo would be a lie.

Satya pulled her head back and looked up at the other, bewildered. “What do you mean ‘’stay back?’’” She inquired incredulously, eyebrow peaked, “we have a mission, do we not?”  Fareeha opened her mouth to respond, but Lucio was actually the one to speak next.

“I mean, yeah, but it’s a stake out for  _ suspected _ Talon activities,” the Brazilian man pointed out with a shrug, “I think you can chill here and I can go in your stead! I already know most of the plan from the meetings that I contrary to popular belief actually pay attention in.” Then, he smirked. “Both of you should stay, actually. We can get someone else to tag in too.” At the words, Fareeha turned to Lúcio and smiled brightly, to which he gave a thumbs up and winked. She pretended she wasn’t flustered by that.

Satya pulled away from her significant other and looked at the two as if they were insane. “Absolutely not?” She cried out, more alarmed than anything that they’d even suggest such a thing, “we have a  _ plan, _ we already know where everyone is going to be and what they are going to do. If we remove not one but  _ two _ people, the whole mission will be in shambles!”

Lúcio chuckled at the other’s panicking but desperately tried to hide it, not wanting her to think he was mocking her. “You have a point,” he relented, “but you underestimate our ability to improvise, Saty!” The woman glared at him and crossed her arms. “This is  _ completely _ unwarranted, it is not the first time a day has started off! I will carry on fine!”

Suddenly, she turned to the only silent party in the room. “You agree, do you not?” Hanzo’s head snapped up to look at her, alarmed that she was addressing him at all. He blinked. “You agree that it is pointless to ruin the mission’s layout for something as silly as this, do you not? Surely you see how ridiculous this is, as one for order as I am.”

If the archer had bothered looking at Fareeha, he would have seen her pointedly staring at him, as if daring him to agree and make Satya go out on the mission, which is not what she wants. But he hadn’t, because he was already speaking, tone even and gaze stern. “Your mental well-being is not silly, Satya,” he stated firmly.

It seemed that the words were unexpected by everyone in the room, including Hanzo himself, whose eyebrows shot upwards almost in disbelief before he leveled his expression and swallowed the lump in his throat then crossed his arms and stared the Indian woman down. Fareeha looked at him in surprise while Lúcio beamed almost proudly.

“He’s right,” the DJ assured, “just stay back. Nothing major’s gonna go to hell if you do!” He skated forward and clapped a hand onto the back of Fareeha’s raptora suit and did his best to make it look like it hadn’t hurt. “And hey, having Ree around might do you some good too. I’d give you a track of mine but I’m kind of gonna need’em.”

“No, no,” Satya spoke in a daze, waving her hands in the air slightly, “this is… It is more than enough. We should be informing Winston of this. I must ensure you don’t delve into chaos in my absence.” The young man grinned sheepishly and Satya couldn’t help but smirk exasperatedly. She wondered how she and him were ever enemies. She then turned to the other man in the room and smiled softly.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak to him, someone else spoke. “I believe I’ve already been informed.” The four glanced at the door and lo and behold, speak of the devil and he shall appear. Winston was standing at the door (technically outside of it since he squeezes through most doorways) and smiling at them kindly.

The architect looked at him and nodded in silent gratitude. “Who will be going in our stead? Other than Lúcio,” she asked, twiddling with her fingers unconsciously. Maybe she could use the time off. She  _ has _ been going on a lot more missions lately, what with her having to try out her technology at every given moment. Though she was mostly responsible for assigning herself into them just to test her abilities. It was in her habit to overwork herself. Perfectionism and all that.

Winston pushed his glasses up with one of his giant gorilla fingers and pulled out what seemed to be a list full of at least three back up plans and for a moment Satya wondered if there was perhaps someone on this base that overworked themselves more than she ever could. “Well, according to my schematics here, our most plausible options are—”

“I can go!” A new voice joined the conversation and Satya found herself inhaling sharply. How many was it now, that were in her room, her space? Five? She leaned to look behind Winston and corrected herself: six, because not only was Brigitte Lindholm, the one who spoke, standing there and smiling brightly, but her father, Torbjörn Lindolm, stood to her right, as grumpy as ever.

Winston glanced at his arrangements and opened his mouth, but was once again cut off, much to his dismay if his expression was anything to by. “No.” Her father objected, looking up at his daughter with a natural-born sneer. “But why not, papa? They could use someone with shields and armor!” She explained, crossing her arms.

The short man still shook his head. “They will have Zarya, won’t they? We still need to work on your armor today anyway.” Brigitte scrunched her nose at her father and tilted her head. “But yesterday you said it was good!” She cried out in confusion, throwing her arms in the air. The Swedish father sighed and rubbed his temples with his non-claw hand.

“Good does not mean that there is no place for improvement. And you know how important improvement is,” Satya watched the man’s entire demeanor suddenly change as he shifted from one foot to another and turned in a specific direction. The architect narrowed her eyes and followed his line of sight, wanting to find out what exactly he was directing all of his grump towards.

Her lips curled into a frown. He was glaring directly at Hanzo. “We have to make sure all our equipment is to be trusted at all times,” he spoke sternly, eyeing the other up and down, “can’t have it failing us and our teammates in the most crucial parts of battle, could we?” At the words, Hanzo had actually honest-to-God  _ flinched _ and looked away, digging his nails into his biceps.

Satya found herself increasingly becoming agitated and it wasn’t just because of the amount of people invading her area anymore. Torbjörn was someone she respected, a fellow engineer and a good one at that since there were quite a few (she hated that Junkrat counted as an engineer but even she couldn’t help but recognize his abilities) that were, “on her level,” for lack of better words.

However, among the most skilled people in the Overwatch base was the most ignorance. She completely understood how grave it was that Hanzo allowing his pride to get in the way of what was supposedly playful banter during a mission had almost cost someone their position, but one mistake is not what they hate him for. Had it been McCree, the others most likely would have given him a stern scolding and moved on.

But no. Because it was  _ Hanzo _ , they held it against him and taunted it over his head whenever he was in the room. Anything Hanzo did was immediately antagonized, because of something he did in his past. She doesn’t know the whole story but she knows the gist of it and she can’t help but wonder how she’s the only one that’s seeing the hell that was on his side.

Perhaps she’s projecting, since it’s very similar to her story as well. She didn’t kill any siblings but she did do bad things on the pretense that they were good, sometimes not even knowing they were bad in the first place. While she was taken in by Vishkar and manipulated to be their toy on the pretense of making the world a better place from a very young age, Hanzo was  _ born _ into that lifestyle. He wasn’t given a choice, immediately groomed from the instant he took his first breath to grow into the proper Shimada heir and be what the clan wanted him to be.

He was never given the ability to choose. When he realized he could, it had been too late. And unlike her, there was no one there to guide him back to the light. When it was first revealed to her that Vishkar was actually in business with Talon and that most of the buildings she made were not being used for good, Overwatch had taken her in almost immediately.

But on that fateful night, who was there for the archer? Covered in his own blood as well as his brother’s, he had to make an instant run to wherever his steps led him. He had been completely on his own because the only people he’d ever known were the ones who had broken him, these  _ elders _ , that  _ father. _ He was completely reborn to try and figure out the wrong from the right without any help.

How could they not see that he is  _ trying _ ? He has been  _ trying _ since he  _ got here. _ He held his tongue and trusted in the others more than he’d ever let on. He’d even claimed he was beyond redemption, but he was still here trying to strive for it anyway. And his complicated relationship with his brother was supposed to be him and his brother’s business. Everyone else’s involvement was slowing him down. No,  _ dragging _ him down.

He was  _ trying _ ,  _ why does no one want to see that? _

“Satya.” The call of her name snapped her out of her thoughts. The conversation around her had continued but she’s completely tuned it out. She hadn’t realized her hands had clenched into fists so tight they shook until Fareeha was holding them and looking at her in concern. She also hadn’t realized she’d been baring her teeth in a snarl until her face has relaxed in realization.

“I am alright,” she murmured to the Egyptian soldier, exhaling harshly. Fareeha stared at her skeptically but didn’t comment. Satya was going to tell her, to explain to her what her train of thought was going through, until she’d looked up and saw her glaring at Hanzo as if he were the source of all of the world’s problems and  _ she’s had enough. _

_ “Out.” _

The room went quiet and six (seven? When did Jesse get here?) pairs of eyes landed on Satya. Were she not so wrapped up in her own thoughts, the looks would have most likely bothered her. “Continue your discussion  _ outside _ of my living quarters,” she snapped, looking them over and daring one of them to contradict her.

Winston cleared his throat. “R-Right,” he stammered, clearly embarrassed, “my apologies, agent Vaswani.” She pushed her nose upwards at the title and rose an eyebrow, watching them all shuffle their way through her narrow door. She proceeded to slam her palm on the surface in front of her and heave in relief as the door slid shut.

Now it was just two people, just her and her Fareeha. She turned to the woman and frowned slightly, deciding that she should definitely talk to her about what just unfolded (since she was always telling her to), but Fareeha seemed to have other ideas. Her hands hovered in the air carefully as she looked deeply into the shorter woman’s eyes.

“Can I touch you?” Satya evaluated the question in her head. She knows Fareeha doesn’t mean “ _ intimately _ ,” she would have made it clear, she was just asking for permission to touch her in general. But she was really irritated as of current. She nibbled on her own bottom lip before turning around and giving the other her back.

Fareeha would have thought it a rejection were it not for the low approving hum the other gave her. With that, she slowly wrapped her arms around the other’s waist and placed her head on her shoulder, leaning on her slightly. Immediately Satya felt some of her stress melt away at the comfortable weight that was now pressing against her.

It was quiet for a moment but Fareeha’s voice broke the illusion, not too harshly but still. “What did he want anyway?” Satya’s eyes, which had shut at some point, reopened and stared at the wall ahead before turning her head to the other and humming inquisitively. “Shimada,” she spoke the name as if she shouldn’t have to, much to Satya’s displeasure, “why was he in here? What was he doing?”

Satya opened her mouth to respond before a sudden scent caught her attention. She would have been embarrassed by getting distracted from a conversation by odor, were it not for the fact that it was the smell of her favorite brew. She looked down at the table in front of her at the teacup that had no doubt gone cool and blinked.

She picked it up with her flesh hand and frowned at the lack of heat but rose it up anyway. As she did, she watched the ribbon on her wrist dangle as her hand went higher and she briefly wondered if Hanzo had another or if he would just attend his mission without it. She shook the thought away and put the tea to her face, then sniffed.

Yes, this was, in fact, her favorite brew of tea. She tilted her head at it and tried to remember how it got there as she hadn’t left the room all morning, then it clicked. It was here  _ because _ she hadn’t left the room all morning. Hanzo had been making tea in the kitchen when he and Genji were arguing, but the tea was for  _ her. _ Hanzo made  _ her _ tea because she’d been  _ “off all morning.” _

She smiled.

“He was trying.”


End file.
